Call Me Danna
by UchihaMorwen
Summary: A short story about Deidara's first nights in the Akatsuki and how he came to call Sasori "Danna"


Disclaimer: I do not own any Naruto characters no matter how sexy they are and how much I wish I did... *sigh*

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><p>He shot venomous glares at the black haired one the whole time they were traveling that evening. How dare he let himself be distracted by such cheap tricks like genjutsu? Never again would he allow that to happen to himself. Never again would he be caught up in the so called art of another person. Never again would he-<p>

"We're stopping here for the night." The largest one, the one with pale blue-grey skin stood in front of the young blonde blocking his path. He had nearly walked right into him.

"Make yourself comfortable," said the man, or was he a shark taking the shape of a man?

Deidara sighed and lay out the bedroll that he had brought with him. Virtually the only thing he had been allowed to bring with him that wasn't on his person at the time they found him. It was a torn ragged bed, and it neither made the ground softer, nor did it keep him warm. Near as he could tell the only real purpose that it served was to keep him from getting dirt on him, which he didn't care about to begin with.

He had made his bed some distance from the others, not pleased to be with them and wanting them to know it. At first he just sat and practiced molding his clay, feeling too self conscious to set off any of the explosions after the day he had. Later though he became more interested in watching the three men he was traveling with.

The black haired one had started a fire and was sitting close to it; his back leaned casually up against the larger shark-like man. The two of them were partners in this "Akatsuki." They were both quiet as they sat there; a silent understanding and comfort flowed between them. The shorter one stared into the fire, and as much as he hated him for what those eyes could do, Deidara could see pain in them. He wondered for a moment about the boy's past. Whatever it was, his partner either knew better than to ask, or was ok with it, however much it may have haunted his younger companion.

_iThat's what partners in this organization are like/i_, he decided. i_They have boundaries and respect them/i._ The young blonde turned his attention to the other member of their traveling party; the one that was to be his "partner." He found he was trying to picture leaning up against that disgusting wooden body looking as comfortable as the raven haired boy did with his partner. The thought made him sick at his stomach.

It surprised Deidara that none of the three were talking to one another, until finally he realized that his "partner" wasn't friends with the other two, and the other two could communicate silently. Now Deidara started to wonder about the man that he had replaced. How had he interacted with his partner? Had they talked about art and laughed and joked together? Or did they simply know all there was to know about one another from a glance?

Deidara hit his hand against the ground, his nails digging into the mouth on his palm. He would never be like that with that Sasori. How could he ever laugh and joke with someone who had no respect for true art? How could he communicate with a glance when the eyes he would be looking into were dead and wooden? No. There would be no partnership between him and Sasori, there couldn't be. He was alone, just as he always had been.

The young blonde lay down, biting the tongues in his palms in an attempt to hold back tears. Why did he even want to cry anyways? He turned his back on the group and pretended he was going to sleep. This way no one would be able to say they saw the firelight show the shine of tears in his eyes.

"I still say he's the type to die young."

"He's an artist though."

"Art is an eternal and undying expression. Those blasts he plays with aren't art; they're only going to get him killed."

"He's your partner, just like Itachi-san is mine."

"I don't need a partner. He'll get himself killed soon enough and then I won't have to worry."

"Leader said you needed a partner. If Deidara dies he'll be replaced again."

That voice, Deidara could hear something behind the dead tone. It made him wonder about this Itachi. He was young too, considerably younger than anyone else it seemed, but he had respect. His voice, that soft voice, somehow it commanded respect, and held more wisdom than it should.

Deidara bit his lip. i_Why am I so fascinated by that guy?/i_ He had already broken his promise to himself. As must as he hated Itachi, he was curious about him; he held mysteries that Deidara suspected even his partner did know how to explain.

Once he had calmed down and it had been quiet for a long stretch of time, Deidara rolled back over. At first he kept pretending that he was asleep, opening one eye just a hair to determine what was going on. Sasori had turned his back to the group, so Deidara was unable to tell if he was awake or asleep, but the other two were certainly asleep now. The larger man was leaned back against a tree, his head rolled to one side, mouth open slightly. It was once again Itachi that caught his attention though. From where he had been leaning against his partner he had now slid down until his head was in the other man's lap.

It was the first time Deidara had seen him looking weak, young or vulnerable. He hated Itachi for winning, but something about that sight; black hair casually fallen against his cheeks, a large hand resting on his head, and even a slight worried look on his face; it all made Itachi human if even for a moment.

And now Deidara looked back over at Sasori. In an instant he was jealous of Itachi. If he had to be here, trapped in this organization for who knows how long, he wanted that kind of comfort. He wanted Sasori to somehow become his partner in more than just fact; he wanted it on a deeper level.

Deidara reached out his hand towards Sasori, tears stinging his eyes. He was tired of being alone, tired of feeling like no one could understand. Sasori was his only chance now for that kind of comfort. He closed his fist, teeth biting down on his fingers as he brought it to his chest. For the first time in his life, Deidara felt truly alone, and that pain overwhelmed him. i_If nothing else, at least my tears are silent./i_

"Hey, kid wake up." A hand was gently shaking his shoulder. "It's time to get going."

Deidara tried to open his eyes but they were stuck together because he had fallen asleep crying, so he just nodded to show that he understood. He heard footsteps walking away and stretched, trying to make it look like he was waking up as naturally as possible. He didn't even remember falling asleep, and his body felt so drained from crying for the first time in years. It made it hard for him to find the motivation to even bother with getting up. Besides, if they wanted him in their organization so badly, they'd just carry him and he could keep sleeping.

Instead, Deidara sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to unglue them so he would be able to see. He wasn't the type to let someone push him around, so he wouldn't be the type to be carried off either. It took several minutes but eventually he did manage to open his eyes and sit up.

The coals from the fire were already gone and what little had been brought and unpacked was already packed again. Everyone was standing there waiting for him. Deidara quickly rolled up his bed and strapped it onto his back.

"I hate waiting," came the low grumble from Sasori as Deidara joined the rest of the group.

"I-I'm sorry, un," he said. He wouldn't usually apologize to anyone, or for anything, but he felt that the only way he stood a chance at making any kind of connection with Sasori was if he made himself vulnerable.

After hours of walking Deidara wanted to say "if you hate waiting then why don't you learn to walk faster Sasori," but he held his tongue and just dropped back to walk behind the whole group. Without realizing it he found that he spent most of the time glaring at the back of Itachi's head. He wasn't any more special than Deidara was, so why should he get a partner that actually seemed to care?

Deidara let out a low sigh so that no one would hear. If it hadn't been for the fact that Itachi had beaten him, and Deidara viewed Itachi as being the weakest of the group, he wouldn't have been following them at all, but after losing to someone like that he felt as if he had no choice.

Most of the day passed in silence, and no one stopped to eat at lunch time. It was sometime around three that Deidara's stomach let out a loud grumble that made the others turn to look at him. He didn't have time to read their expressions before he turned his head to look away from them all. After a moment though he turned back to see the large man leaned comically over listening to Itachi whisper something.

Right after that the man dropped back and started walking next to Deidara.

"How'd you sleep kid?" he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Hey I know things are rough for you right now, I'm just trying to be a friendly face here." He gave a twisted grin that showed all of his sharp pointed teeth. Deidara wanted to say that his face hardly looked friendly, but he also didn't want to alienate himself further.

"Not very well, un," he said.

The older man nodded. "Just wait till we get to the base though, there will be an actual bed there."

It was Deidara's turn to nod. The two of them walked together in silence for a moment before Deidara spoke again.

"What's your- I mean I never got your-"

"Name? I'm Kisame." He held out a large bluish hand for the younger one to shake, and Deidara took it. Kisame's grip was surprisingly gentle for someone so large and ferocious looking, and it was a comfort to Deidara, the first he had felt since he started traveling with the group.

"It's nice to meet you, un," Deidara muttered.

"Look kid, we would have stopped to eat but we all wanted to make it back to base tonight. Neither Itachi-san nor myself like sleeping outdoors."

Deidara nodded, finding himself annoyed both at being called a kid and the way Kisame had used the respectful san suffix when talking about Itachi.

"And don't worry about Sasori, he'll loosen up around you, he's just a bit wooden." Kisame smiled again.

Deidara just blinked, realizing he either hadn't gotten the joke or it just wasn't funny.

"Sasori is just one of those people that prefers to work alone, but the two of you are both artists so I'm sure you'll get along well. Just give him some time kid."

"I'm not a kid, un." Deidara was tired of hearing about Sasori. That man had no respect for true art, there was no way they would be able to get along with one another, and Sasori had already made it quite clear that he had no desire to get along with Deidara anyways.

"Sorry ki-" Kisame stopped, "Sorry Deidara."

Deidara nodded and muttered that it was alright.

"I just don't like to be belittled for my age. I'm not a kid, I'm an artist, and my art is the ultimate expression of art, un! Why should I care what that Sasori thinks? He doesn't know anything about true art. Art is that moment of fleeting beauty that can never be repeated, never replicated, something that exists only for a moment, un! It's not eternal. It's not-"

Deidara looked up at Kisame, suddenly feeling like he was rambling. Kisame however just chuckled.

"It's good to be passionate about something Deidara. I like it. It's a nice change from Itachi-san."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not passionate about anything. What you've seen is Itachi-san. That's just how he is, how he always has been. Just blank, indifferent, it's like he's dead inside."

Deidara looked at the back of Itachi's head again. He suddenly hated Itachi even more for being able to come off so indifferent. Deidara was unable to hide the fact that he hated this organization already, that he wanted nothing to do with it.

"You ok?" Kisame was looking at Deidara with some concern.

"I'm alright. Just tired, un."

Kisame patted Deidara on the back with one large hand. "We'll be there around sundown," he said with a grin.

For the rest of the afternoon Kisame walked with Deidara, and Deidara watched Itachi and Sasori, trying to decide which of the two he hated more. Itachi, who had those eyes that refused to acknowledge his art at all, or Sasori who had no concept of what true art was. By the time they reached the base Deidara was practically asleep on his feet and couldn't decide if he had the energy to eat, or if he just wanted to find a bed and pass out.

"Well, we're here," Kisame announced.

Deidara stopped dead in his tracks.

"This is it? This is the base of this supposedly great organization?"

"Yep."

Deidara sat down on the ground right where he was. He had traveled all this way to find that the bed promised to him was just a big ugly cave.

"You have to be kidding me, un."

"Get inside," Sasori growled.

"I'm not going in there."

"You don't have a choice," the other artist answered.

Kisame walked over, squatting down and putting an arm around Deidara.

"Look, it may not seem like much from the outside, but the inside isn't that bad."

Deidara looked up at Kisame, the disbelief evident in his eyes. Before he had time to decide if he should trust the older man or not, he felt several small points of chakra attach all over his body and he found himself being forced to his feet.

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Quit being such a brat," Sasori grumbled, and the chakra strings that led from Deidara to him forced the young blonde to walk, however much he struggled, into the hideous cave that was supposed to be his new home.

Deidara hated feeling so helpless and he found himself fighting tears back as much as he was fighting against Sasori. Before he knew it he found that he had been marched into the cave. He didn't even get a chance to look around before he was led down a hallway and thrown into a room.

"Good night Deidara," he heard Kisame say, "and good luck." The door slammed before he could reply.

The bomber looked up from where he had landed on the ground. There were two small beds, a single nightstand and a four drawer dresser in the room. The walls were covered with numerous wooden body parts that made Deidara shudder in disgust.

"The bottom two drawers are yours," Sasori said. "Your ring is on the table. You are to wear it at all times. Whenever you leave the base you are to be in your cloak."

Deidara didn't bother to answer as he stood up and walked over to the dresser. He looked in the bottom two drawers and found that there was one cloak, several tops that looked exactly the same, several pairs of pants, copious amounts of socks that were designed to go over his shoes, and one pair of shoes.

"I don't even get to wear my own clothes?"

"You're a member of an organization."

"These clothes aren't artistic at all, un."

"Quit complaining, brat."

Deidara slammed the drawer shut.

"Don't call me a brat."

"Then don't act like one."

"And don't tell me how to act, un! You people show up out of nowhere, force me to join your organization, and then drag me away from my home to live in some pathetic excuse for a room in a cave! I'll act however I want to act."

Sasori's tail whipped around and knocked Deidara back onto his bed, the pointed tip hovering over his face, a quivering drop of purple liquid on the end. Slowly he moved over closer to the young blonde. Deidara watched the hovering drip waiting for it to fall.

"Do you know what this is?" Sasori asked.

Deidara just shook his head. He was alarmed at the sudden force that Sasori had used against him.

"A poison I created. One drop is more than enough to kill you. Now lay down and sleep, brat."

The blonde didn't respond, he just continued to stare until Sasori moved his tail away. There was the sound of swishing fabric as the cloak Sasori was wearing was whipped off and thrown onto the other bed. Deidara had to try hard not to gag when he saw Sasori without the cloak on. The lump that Deidara had assumed was just a fat misshapen body was in fact more like a strange four-legged animal of some sort. There was a huge mask on his back that had a hideous grin with the tail protruding from it, and one of the arms was thick and filled with pegs.

Had he not been so terrified of being poisoned Deidara would have had a lot to say about art at that moment. Suddenly though the exhaustion of the day of traveling overtook him and he found his eyes becoming far too heavy to keep open.

He couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours when he was awakened by the sound of creaking wood. Deidara rolled over in his small bed and tried to ignore it. It seemed to go on for hours and Deidara's nerves were getting thinner by the second.

Finally it stopped.

Deidara let out a sigh and started relaxing to go back to sleep. Then the sound of wood being sanded met his ears. He did his best to hold in a groan so as not to upset his "partner." It had to be late; surely Sasori would need to sleep soon.

Deidara closed his eyes and started to picture every explosion he could remember creating. Each one was perfect, each one was beautiful, and each one was fleeting. That was art; something that could only be admired in a single instant, something ever changing, ever fading. Nothing could last forever. Eternity. What a joke. Why would anyone want to live forever when they could become their ultimate form of art?

Eventually the sound of sanding became too much to tolerate, and even the beautiful images of art were drowned from Deidara's mind by the noise. He rolled over and threw off his blanket, sitting up and looking over at Sasori.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he yelled.

"Quiet," came the grumble from the other side of the room.

"No. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you, un. I'm tired of how you're treating me. You're supposed to be my partner here and you treat me like a child."

"You are a child."

"I'm not a child."

"Be quite and go back to sleep."

"Stop treating me like you're my mother or something, un!"

"I'm busy working on my art."

Deidara scoffed. He couldn't take anymore of Sasori's "art."

"That's not art, un. Art is something fleeting, beautiful, something explosive and amazing. Nothing lasts forever. I'd rather die as a part of my artwork than waste my life on puppets like you."

Sasori's tail swung around and stabbed into the ground in front of Deidara.

"You know nothing about art, brat. Those pathetic explosions of yours will only get you killed. Art is never ending, never fading, something that everyone will remember, will pass on-"

"Art is fleeting, un! Everyone dies!"

"Quiet!"

It was the first time Deidara had heard Sasori raise his voice and it alarmed him for a moment. He composed himself before he spoke again, this time standing up. He was tired of feeling afraid of Sasori; there was no point to it. If he was going to die it would be on his terms, by his hand, as his own art, not because he was poisoned by some old man hiding in a puppet.

"You're the one who knows nothing about art," Deidara said quietly, slipping his hand into the clay pouch that was still on his hip. "You talk about art but all you do is hide inside that hideous puppet of yours like a coward." Deidara was shaking from his anger as the mouth on his palm took a huge bite of clay and chewed it, infusing his chakra into it.

"Watch your mouth, brat, or your first night here will be your last," Sasori grumbled.

"No. I'm sick of you, un. I'll show you what art really is!" Deidara spit the molded bird from his palm, two fingers raised as he manipulated his chakra to make it larger. He sent the bird flying at Sasori, swerving around the whipping tail of the puppet.

"Katsu!"

The detonation shook the room and made several of the wooden limbs fall from the wall, and some small rocks fall down from the ceiling. Before the smoke could clear Deidara caught a glimpse of the sharp point of Sasori's tail and dodged out of the way as it stabbed into the ground where he had been.

Deidara made a 'tch' sound realizing that Sasori had been unharmed by the explosion.

"Don't think your little bombs can get past Hiruko."

"Don't underestimate my art, un."

Deidara stuck both hands into his pouches, pulling them back out and making fists as he molded his chakra into the clay. Sasori raised the thick knobby arm of his puppet, firing several of the pegs at Deidara. With a quick hand gesture Deidara multiplied his clay sculptures of bugs into several hundred small ones.

The small clay bugs and the pegs flew at one another, the pegs breaking apart to reveal several senbons hidden inside each one. As Deidara detonated his clay creations they formed a shield against the barrage of needles, causing them to fly off at odd angles and land in various places around the room.

Deidara could see the poison gleaming on the tips of the needles, and before the smoke could clear he was busy making more creations, this time serpents that slithered from his palms. They moved through the smoke, moving around the field of spikes easily. Before they could find their target Sasori's tail whipped out through the clearing smoke. Deidara dodged but not fast enough. The heavy weight of Sasori's tail caught him in the side, knocking his breath away and breaking several ribs.

Deidara landed on the floor near the door, impacting with enough force to make a crack in the wood. He coughed, blood splattering across his lips. He wiped it away with a determined look over at Sasori, whose eyes were narrowed and his tail swinging maliciously back and forth.

"I won't go down that easy, un."

The serpents coiled around an arm of Sasori's puppet as Deidara used the door to push himself back up. He jumped over onto the bed to avoid the explosion as he detonated the snakes with a word. The blast shook the small room of the cave, making the light flicker out for an instant before coming back on.

"Not bad for a brat," came Sasori's low growl.

Deidara smirked as the dust settled to show a good portion of one side of the puppet blown away. Through the hole he could see one of the Akatsuki cloaks hanging out.

"Are you going to keep hiding in that broken down old puppet or fight me for real?" Deidara panted, holding his side.

Hiruko's jaw dropped open and his tail swung around. Before he had another chance to attack Deidara infused more of his chakra into some clay, throwing it at Sasori and detonating it. The huge crash from the explosion took out the light, and in the darkness Deidara could hear more things fall from the wall with a clatter. Pieces of the ceiling peppered Deidara's head and neck as he looked in the direction of Sasori.

A creaking sound came from the other side of the room follow by a rumbling thud. A soft laughter filled the air and Deidara caught himself glancing around to see if he could tell who it was coming from. It was laughter unlike any he had heard before.

"You want to fight me brat, so be it."

The voice matched the laughter but was completely different from the harsh droning that Deidara had come to recognize. This one was deep, soft, and had a menacing undertone to it; a sort of sadistic humor that lay beneath the surface sound.

"Who are you?" Deidara asked the darkness.

"What? You don't recognize me now?" Another soft chuckle followed the words.

"Sasori?" It dawned on Deidara that the voice he had known must have been the voice of the puppet, and that only now had Sasori come out of Hiruko. This was the first time that Deidara was hearing the real Sasori speak.

"Finally getting the idea, eh brat?"

"And you finally decided to acknowledge my art, un."

"I told you, those little blasts aren't art. Art is something everlasting. Art is eternal. And now I'll show you what true art is!" Sasori's voice had passion to it that reverberated through the dark room.

Deidara put his hand back in his clay pouch, this time infusing enough chakra into the bite of clay to create a smaller version of his special C2 dragon that would nearly fill the small room. Deidara stood beside his creation with one hand resting on its back.

"We'll see whose art is more powerful now that you've stopped hiding!"

Deidara's dragon spit several smaller bombs towards the other side of the room, detonating in the area where Sasori's puppet had been. A burst of fire broke through the explosions, shooting towards Deidara who dodged behind his dragon to avoid it. In the light of the fire he caught a glimpse of intense red hair; a stark contrast to the black rolls of it that Hiruko had.

With each roar of the fire and blast of art, Deidara was starting to get a better image of Sasori and the way he fought. He had blades attached to his shoulders, meaning Deidara had to keep his distance so that he wouldn't get cut; but they also allowed Sasori to move much more quickly than Deidara could.

The one thing that Deidara was unable to figure out about Sasori's fighting style through the sporadically lit room was the hose that seemed to whip around the way Hiruko's tail had. It was forcing Deidara to dodge from one side of the room to the other, not only to avoid the poison tip, but also Sasori himself and his attempts to wrap the hose around Deidara.

Explosions continued to shake the room, wooden limbs being blasted into smithereens, the dresser and nightstand being overturned, and a large hole in Sasori's bed were all casualties of the battle. Deidara was having trouble adjusting his eyes to the flashes of light and found he was relying more on his ears to try to listen for Sasori's movements to be able to dodge them. His large clay dragon was absorbing a lot of the impact from Sasori's attacks, and finally the fire blasts became too much for it and the clay stopped holding together, melting into a slick puddle on the floor.

Sasori was able to easily avoid the slippery mess of clay thanks to whatever allowed him to gain so much height over Deidara. The young blonde found himself constantly looking above himself to see Sasori. As he jumped out of the way of another roar of fire and attack from the hose he landed on the mess of clay that covered the floor and slipped, hitting his already broken ribs on the edge of the bed.

Before Sasori could respond Deidara was back on his feet, panting as he reached for more clay out of his pouches. A moment of alarm caused Deidara to stand still. He was out of clay. He had used up almost all of it to make the C2 dragon, and what was left in the fight.

Deidara swore at himself for not keeping better track of his resources. Before he could rally his thoughts and come up with another plan to attack Sasori a sharp pain shot through his right shoulder. Deidara moved his hands to his shoulder to find that Sasori had pierced it. It went all the way through and was pinning Deidara down to the bed.

Another blast of fire from Sasori's palms lit several candles that had miraculously stayed attached to the wall in their holders. For the first time Deidara was able to clearly see Sasori in the candle light. He had short red hair that was slightly messy. His cloak had been thrown off during the fight and Deidara could see the lines that marked where all the joints of his body came together, sharp blades that spread out from his shoulders, and his stomach was an empty cavity that allowed the hose to be coiled inside his body. Sasori himself was standing on the hose where it looped through the air in front of Deidara. The redhead's face was a calm placid expression; it showed no interest, no malice, but was blank.

Deidara was confused, the Sasori that stood before him couldn't have been a day over fifteen, and yet he had thought Sasori to be much older than himself. His eyes retraced over the body; something seemed off about it. Deidara felt his jaw drop open when his eyes landed on the puppet master's heart, a small circle on his chest that read "Sasori." Deidara realized that this was the only part of Sasori that was truly him, everything else about his body suddenly made sense; the smooth lines, the artificial look of the skin; Sasori's own body was nothing but a puppet.

Deidara caught himself admiring Sasori, not for the quality of the puppet before him, nor for the quiet way in which he watched Deidara take it all in, but for the simple fact that Sasori had achieved Deidara's own ultimate goal; he had become his own greatest work of art.

"You…" Deidara winced at the pain in his shoulder. "You made yourself into a puppet?"

"This is true art," Sasori said, looming over the young blonde.

"You're not even real then," Deidara huffed.

The rage that came off of Sasori was palpable in the room. Deidara could see the purple gleam of poison trailing down the hose that was still imbedded in his shoulder. The blonde struggled against it, trying to free himself to no avail. As the poison made contact with the open wound a searing pain shot through his shoulder. It felt as if fire were spreading through his body.

Deidara looked up at Sasori, hatred in his eyes as the pain started to make his vision fade momentarily. As the room came back into clearer view, Deidara found himself having trouble breathing, the pain in his ribs intensifying with each breath. His body felt heavy and his limbs wouldn't respond to his commands to move them. Panic started to flood through Deidara and he glared at Sasori, his facial muscles still able to move. Sasori let out a soft chuckle.

"Don't worry Deidara; you're not going to die. It's just a paralytic."

"You… bastard," Deidara panted at Sasori.

Sasori lowered himself to the ground and stepped off the hose that was supporting him; he leaned in to Deidara and whispered. "I'll show you just how real I can be, brat."

Sasori made some hand signs and there was a poof of smoke. Deidara was expecting him to be completely changed into some semblance of a human, but instead Sasori looked exactly the same. The only difference was his skin. There were no lines marking the joints, and it had a softer, more realistic look to it.

"I despise this body, but it lets me feel everything, just as you would."

He lightly brushed his hand across Deidara's cheek, closing his eyes. Deidara tried to turn his head away from Sasori's touch but his body wouldn't respond and he was forced to endure the touch, only escaping it some by closing his eyes.

"Natsukashii," Sasori whispered.

Deidara opened one eye to see a surprising look on Sasori's face. Had he not hated the puppeteer in front of him he would have asked, but fear and hatred both held his tongue.

Sasori's hand traced over Deidara's face slowly; following the shape of his eyes, nose and lips as if memorizing every detail. The touch was so gentle it almost made Deidara want to scream. Still, Sasori's hand moved softly over Deidara's skin. It was the first kind thing that Sasori had done, and it was pulling at Deidara's emotions.

"Why," the young blonde whispered, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Sasori ignored him at first.

"Why won't you accept me as your partner?" Deidara half sobbed.

"You're the type to die young," was the simple answer.

Deidara failed to hold back tears any longer and they slid down his cheeks.

"Then why won't you at least acknowledge me as a fellow artist?"

"Because art is eternal, and you're too young to understand that." Sasori looked over Deidara's body, lightly taking one of the blonde's hands in his and looking at the mouth that was set into the palm. Deidara closed his eyes as the redhead traced over the extra sensitive lips that were there.

"Art is beautiful," Sasori whispered. "It can never die, unlike the human form. It's beauty that is preserved forever, for every generation to enjoy and remember. Art is calm and peaceful, not violent and explosive."

"Art is fleeting," Deidara replied, looking up into Sasori's eyes, pleading with him to understand and accept it. "Just like life."

Sasori's expression remained impassive as he moved aside the kimono that Deidara was still wearing, looking through his mesh top at the mouth stitched closed on his chest. The blonde felt his heart pounding as Sasori's hand moved towards it.

"Don't," he said, and is tone was firm, dangerous, and showed much more of his own intensity than he had since he lost the fight with Itachi. Sasori's hand paused.

"This body," he looked into Deidara's eyes, "would make beautiful art."

"You'll never make me one of your puppets," Deidara spat vehemently. "You're supposed to be my partner here!"

"As long as I know that you'll make beautiful art someday, I can work with you," Sasori said.

It was the closest thing to a compromise that they would ever reach.

"Sasori…" Deidara looked up into the puppet master's eyes, not wanting to lose the moment, but wanting to tell him that he could never become part of his art. Deidara had long known that his death would be beautiful and fleeting, his own greatest masterpiece, but this moment was too precious to lose. Sasori had finally accepted him as his partner.

The redhead leaned in close to Deidara, softly kissing his lips, leaving Deidara stunned. He wanted to put his fingers where Sasori's lips had been, not trusting that the sensation had even been real.

"Call me Danna, brat."

Deidara stared back at Sasori in shock, forgetting that he was unable to nod for a moment. Then the soft whisper left his lips, "Danna…"

Sasori used a chakra string to pull Deidara's Akatsuki ring to him from where it had fallen off the table during the fight. He silently slipped it onto Deidara's finger and turned away from the small bed. The blades on his shoulders folded in like a pair of elegant wings and he used a single hand sign to release his jutsu before putting his cloak back on.

Deidara watched as Sasori used his chakra strings to right the room in a few easy flicks of his fingers before sitting down on his bed. He picked up the wooden limb he had been working on out of Hiruko and set it aside, getting a new piece of wood to start mending his favorite and now battle damaged puppet.

"You need to get some sleep, brat. That poison will have worn off by the time you wake up."

Deidara closed his eyes, still unable to move. The sound of sanding met his ears and he sighed.

"Don't you ever sleep… Danna?"

"I don't need sleep in this body."

Deidara sighed again and tried to relax as the sound of wood against sandpaper filled his ears. Silently and slowly he mouthed the word again, "Danna." Perhaps he would be able to work with Sasori after all, and maybe they could become the kind of partners that Deidara secretly, so secretly he wouldn't admit it to even himself, longed to be.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave comments if you did! 3<em>


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